


I Am Not a Robot

by Libennly



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Character Study, Dysfunctional Family, Family Dinners, Gen, Just so u know the brother is defo Kevin, Light Angst, Pre-Canon, just didn't put him in tags because I didn't want to catfish anyone, lmao this is so fucking bad whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23044432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Libennly/pseuds/Libennly
Summary: “You're crying, Cecil.” Mother’s voice comes out calm.A family dinner in the Palmer household, what a thing to smile at.
Relationships: Cecil Palmer & Cecil Palmer's Mother
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12





	I Am Not a Robot

He cries, quietly at first and then louder and louder. Grey eats streak down his reddening cheeks, his body quivering with built-up emotions. His soggy vegetables lay pallid on the plate below him and the broccoli grew more purple and more unappealing with every splash of salty tears.

It was otherwise silent at the table, his sister and brother frozen in their seats. He knew, and he was sorry, sorry, sorr-, that he was interrupting their monthly family dinner, and that maybe he should be more respectful, but everything seemed to flood out of him at once and, and and and-

His brother is pale, paler than snow, and he looks towards their stone-faced mother, who is staring into the void. His sister sits with a half-chewed piece of broccoli speared on the end of her fork, which hangs precariously in her loosening grip, tilting slightly to the side and further, further, further. He’s still crying and the tears burn his skin. 

“You're crying, Cecil.” Mother’s voice comes out calm. Not the nice calm, the dreamy, placid sort of tone that takes your worries away and eats them, peacefully though, but the calm voice that felt dissociated and disconnected and all other kinds of words with dis- prefixes. He shivers, as a feeling not unlike a light, gnarled fingertip that was steadily tracing the outline of his spine passed through his body. 

“I- I-“ He clears his throat. “I’m sorry, Mother.”

She turns to look at him and her cold, unseeing eyes look through him, through the sinew, muscles, bones, and organs that are, hopefully, beneath his flesh, and through the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Live in Your Home, who stood with her pointer finger still giving what could be a misguided massage to his back. In fact, Mother seemed to look through life and time, her sallow eyes widening as she stared into the eyes of a greater deity, as she stared into Void and Life and Death. She watched each of them in turn, her skin paling even more, despite the already pasty tone it was before and then gasped. His sister watched and his brother closed his eyes. 

“Someone’s going to kill you one day, Cecil, and it will involve a mirror. Mark my words, my child. Mark my words.” She muttered, tuna spraying from her mouth. Neither brother nor sister commented on her premonition, though his sister made some sounds comparable to a dying bird and his brother flinched and shakily jabbed a fork into his lasagna. The Faceless Old Woman smiled at him, despite it being physically impossible to do so. 

“Me? I would never,” she whispered in his ear, despite her body being in the same position, and still lightly tracing a finger up his back. “They will though. They will and you will be so, so scared of Them. Eat up!” He watched as a large spider entangled itself in her matted hair, twisting and fighting until resigning itself to it’s fate. He didn’t like spiders, he decided. 

“Smile, children. There’s no sadness when you smile.”

He does as Mother says and a wide grin plastered itself on his face, stretching impossibly wide even as glassy tears still track red lines and strangled whimpers tear themselves from within his throat. His sister straightens up and almost shakes her head, before thinking better of it and faking a smile more alike a smirk. The strangest reaction was that of his brother, who shook slightly and then froze, his face contorting into dislike at the mere thought of being forced to grin, grin, grin-

Be happy! Be happy! Cheerfulness is the way to a lovely life! Live, laugh, love. Live, laugh, love. If you can’t do that, just laugh, just laugh, just laugh. 

“Good,” Mother rasped, her praise directed only to his sister and himself. His brother didn’t look surprised, nor disappointed. A final tear runs down his cheek, clasping on to the edge of his chin before dropping, falling, endlessly, giving up. 

The next day, every mirror in Night Vale is covered up by the nearest fabric. No one talks about it and no one thinks about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Can I please have, uh, some feedback??? Literally anything I'm begging y'all. Just a comment about ur favourite line, ur favourite character, literally anything idc. I'm on the verge of deleting all my fics (it's that sort of mood rn) and I *really* just need validation idk. I love y'all either way, but this is really the only place I can hope to get feedback, seeing as 41 followers isn't a good count for asks.
> 
> This was originally part of a bigger fic? I cut out the unfinished scene that came after this, but I think it something to do with Cecil inadvertently affecting Nightvale throughout his life, through unknowingly passing laws or beliefs, and everyone being like 'haha' but also like '😐😐'. Anyway it was shite so here y'all go. I might update this? Idk, tell me if u want that.
> 
> Again, please, please, I'm begging for feedback, but no matter what, thank you all for reading!! 😁😁😁♥️♥️


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